The Conversation
by csiAngel
Summary: Sparky! Pre & Post Coup D'Etat, so spoilers, and sequel to my fic The Last Goodbye
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Conversation  
Rating: K+  
Summary: Sequel to my fic"The Last Goodbye", and pre/post ep for "Coup D'etat".  
Spoilers: Up to and including "Coup D'etat" (2x17)  
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis' characters and premise do not belong to me. I am simply borrowing them for my crazy purposes.  
A/N: Inspired by the seemingly nervous look on Elizabeth's face after John leaves her office at the end of "Coup D'etat". A sequel to my fic "The Last Goodbye". Chapter one is pre-"Coup D'etat". Chapter two is post-"Coup D'etat".

Chapter One

He smiled when he saw her. There was no reason for it in particular, he was just smiling because he had seen her.

She was seated behind her desk; her head rested on her hand; and her eyes focussed on her laptop. She had that studious look of concentration that he had come to admit made her look even cuter. In the week and a half since their kiss – since they were imprinted with the consciousnesses of a warring alien pair – he had frequently startled himself with his thoughts about this woman.

He had always known he found her attractive, both physically and mentally; and he valued his friendship with her more than any he had ever had in his past. But since she – no, Phoebus – kissed him he had no control over the thoughts that told him he wanted her to be more than just a friend.

He stepped across the threshold of her office, knocking twice on the doorframe as he passed, and fixing his smile in preparation for when she would look up.

She raised only her eyes, at first, as if to check who it was, and then she sat back in her chair and offered him the smile recent observations had revealed she reserved only for him.

"Anything interesting?" he asked, nodding towards her computer.

"Just catching up on mission reports," she replied. "Just one more and I'm up to date… Remind me never to have any time off sick again," she smirked.

"Well, we can get someone else to read the reports for you while you're ill," he suggested.

She smiled, but frowned. "I'd still want to read them."

He laughed a little. "Well then we can at least suspend 'gate activity until you're back at work."

She smiled and nodded. "That we can do."

Once again he was lost in her eyes and he allowed a comfortable silence to encompass them – aside from anything else, it would provide a suitable pause before his change of subject.

After a while her brow creased and her eyes flicked in all directions before she ducked her head – unable to hide the blush on her cheeks.

Seeing her nervousness he decided it would be a good time to break the silence.

"So," he began, stepping closer to the desk, "I was thinking…"

She looked back up and frowned; her facial expression indicating that she might be suspicious of his tone.

"… and, erm, we never had that talk," he concluded, fighting to not show any of his own nerves.

Her eyes widened briefly with what looked like panic and then she hid behind the façade of calm that he knew she had perfected years ago.

"No we didn't," she said, letting him direct the conversation.

"In fact," he continued, stepping even closer to the desk, so that his leg now rested against it, "This is the first time you and I have been alone since – "

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes it is… And I suppose we should be grateful that we haven't tried to kiss – … kill each other."

She covered the slip very well, but he still heard it. "I suppose we should," he said, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes conveying the fact that he knew exactly what she had said.

She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to fight the smirk that was twitching at her lips. "Was there a point to all this, Colonel?"

The use of his rank – showing him that she was feeling out of control of the situation and she was trying to reassert her authority. It was worth a try. But, more than anything, he found it amusing.

"Yes," he said definitively. "Have dinner with me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that an order?"

"It's a request," he smiled. "Do I need to make it an order?"

Her smile widened and she shook her head. "No… Dinner would be nice… I guess we should talk… So, when?"

"Tonight?" he asked, eyes hopeful.

She shot him that smile again. "Okay… What time?"

"Whatever time you decide to call it a night," he smirked.

She laughed. "You realise that may be a few hours after you call it a night?" she teased.

He shrugged. "I'll wait… I'll be on our balcony whenever you're ready."

"Our balcony?" she said, eyebrow raised.

He smirked. "You know which one I mean."

Her smile told him that she did know which one he meant. "So we're having dinner on the balcony?"

He nodded. "I thought we could have a picnic," he said, proud of his romantic idea.

"Ah," she smirked. "Because that worked on the last woman you tried it on?"

His face dropped. He had completely forgotten about Chaya. "I didn't – "

She cut him off. "It was a joke, John."

"Well, we can – "

"A picnic on the balcony sounds great," she interrupted him again.

"Are you sure? We could – "

This time an unscheduled 'gate activation was the cause of his interruption.

Their eyes met, both filled with a sense of foreboding, and they made their way through to the control room.

-----

Less than ten minutes later John was geared up and heading out to provide back up to Major Lorne's team.

He left through the 'gate with his usual nod towards her and this time it was accompanied by a tap of his watch. A promise that he would be back for dinner.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"All right, then I say we call it a night," he answered her smiling.

She quickly hid the surprise she felt at his comment, having managed to forget about their dinner arrangements given the last few days' events with the Genii. She smiled and gave a small nod. "That we can do."

His eyes held hers for a moment and then he left the office.

She looked back to her laptop and tried to concentrate: but it was fruitless.

Since John had said in the infirmary that they would "talk properly" her mind had been preoccupied with running all the possible ways that conversation could go – and how it should go.

Each scenario inevitably reached a point where they had to make a decision about whether or not to cross the line between friendship and something more. She would present all of the reasons why they needed to keep their distance – all put forward while he was standing in her personal space; his eyes holding hers intensely and her memory flooded with what it was like to feel his lips against hers.

She would argue that personal feelings might interfere with their working relationship. And he would nod. She would point out that they had to set an example to the rest of the expedition. And he would nod. Then half way through her argument – that if things went wrong, both their friendship and professional relationship would be ruined – he would smirk; and no matter how hard she tried to remain serious, a smile would creep across her face; and she would lose all sense of logic, able to focus only on his lips and how much she wanted to kiss them again.

Not once in her multiple musings did she manage to not succumb to her true feelings. And this was what her mind was reminding her of right now.

He had been right with his implication of what she was afraid of. Okay, so she was a little concerned that Phoebus might still be hidden within her and might try to kill John again; but she was mostly nervous about facing up to the fact that there was a bond stronger than friendship between them.

It wasn't a fear of having to admit her feelings, only to have him say he didn't feel the same way - he was pursuing the conversation so that seemed to show he was interested in how their relationship might progress; she was afraid of taking the step across that line.

She had realised her feelings had already taken that step when he returned from his 'suicide mission' and she hugged him. The show of emotion had been instinctive and it was only later that she had considered what it meant.

From then on she had fought to keep herself in check around him. Which wasn't easy to do. Flirtations still crept through but she figured that as long as she kept enough of a distance no one need know how she really felt – and she didn't have to face up to it herself.

When he was missing months later and she found herself unable to admit that he might be dead, she knew that what little strength she was managing to draw was coming from knowing that the others wouldn't understand if she broke down completely.

When he returned she had to stop herself from hugging him again and, as she cried herself to sleep that night, she determined that her feelings for him would be pushed to the back of her mind.

And she had – for the most part – managed to keep them there. But, of course, the back of her mind is exactly where Phoebus had found them: and when her 'guest' had said that the second kiss had been 'for her', she had meant it.

Elizabeth had been unable to hide her true desire for John from Phoebus and now it was going to take every ounce of her being – and a whole load of her poker face – to hide it from John.

But – having been once again reminded of how hard it would be to lose him – she knew that is what she had to do.

-----

She had considered skipping dinner; going straight to a restless sleep in her quarters; pretending that she hadn't understood the hidden meaning in his words. But she couldn't do it. Leaving him alone on the balcony with dinner for two might be just as damaging to their friendship as the conversation they were due to have. At least, this way, he would have an explanation.

She intended to hesitate outside the doors to the balcony but, in her distraction, failed to remember that the doors would open automatically.

She started at the rush of warm air against her face and managed to bury her surprise before John turned round to greet her.

"Hi," he smiled, and her resolve began to crumble already. "You're earlier than I thought you'd be."

"It's been a long day," she responded, offering a small smile of her own.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, waving his hand to his right.

She looked in that direction, finding a blanket laid out further along the balcony; sandwiches and orange juice sitting on top of it. She smiled to herself at the simplicity – the ration system didn't really lend itself to extravagance.

She must have been staring at it for too long because suddenly John was standing close to her saying:

"Are you okay?"

She turned to back to him, reprimanding herself for having jumped as he spoke. "I'm fine," she said, stepping backwards, because standing that close to him would definitely not help her cause.

He was frowning; studying her, and his gaze made her even more nervous.

"What?" she asked, desperately trying to think straight and avoid all the recurring flashes of her daydreams about this moment.

"Relax," he said – in fact, from the serious look on his face as he spoke, it could have been an order.

She was going to retort with "I am relaxed," but found herself unable to voice the lie.

"I can't," she said instead.

He stepped closer to her. "Why not?"

She took a deep breath and forced her defences up. "Because I think you're expecting more from this conversation than I can give."

His eyebrows raised and there was a beat of pause before he said: "Wow! Straight to the point."

"I thought it would be best," she said softly.

"What is it you think I want?" he asked, brow furrowed – which she had to tell herself did not make him look even cuter.

"To talk about us."

"And you can't talk about us?"

She tried to surreptitiously take another deep breath. "I can talk about why there can never be an 'us'," she stated, hoping it sounded definitive.

There was a brief silence and then he crossed his arms in front of him. "Okay then. Why can there never be an 'us'?" he queried, looking at her expectantly.

"John – "

"You said you could talk about it," he countered before she even had chance to voice her objection.

"You know why." She couldn't say anymore than that, her determination was failing her.

"Because you're my boss," he stated, adding, "Technically," with a small smirk.

She nodded.

"Because we have to set an example," he continued, taking a step closer to her.

She nodded again and told herself she should maintain the distance between them. But she didn't move.

"Because, as well as our working relationship," he carried on, stepping closer still, "we'd also be risking our friendship."

He was right in front of her now and her head was tilted back to look at him as she swallowed hard and nodded again; remaining silent for fear of what she might say if she allowed herself to speak.

His voice was quieter as he posed his next reason. "Because it's too hard to cope when you think I'm dead."

She felt her breath shake as she exhaled, and tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She nodded again, unable to form any other response.

Then he placed his hand gently on her shoulder and his thumb stroked the material of her t-shirt as he moved his head closer to hers and said, barely louder than a whisper: "Elizabeth…"

He paused until her eyes were completely focussed on his.

"… Will denying your feelings make that any easier?"

Damn him! Didn't take him very long at all.

She still did not speak. To respond would be to admit that he was right. And she might be in love; but she was still stubborn.

He must have seen this thought in her eyes because a smirk crept across his lips. "I didn't think so."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not cute when you gloat you know!" she quipped.

He grinned. "But I so rarely gloat that it doesn't matter."

His other hand had moved up to her other shoulder, and now both were sliding closer to her neck, as he took the half-step needed for him to be as close as he could get without it being inappropriate.

"So now can we talk about us?" he asked, looking, hopefully, deep into her eyes.

She swallowed her rising excitement. "The other reasons still stand," she stated.

John nodded. "But the fact that I love you overrides all those."

She almost choked on whatever retort she had planned to use, and couldn't stop her smile from surfacing. "I hope you know what we're doing," she said, her tone making it sound like a challenge.

"Why?" he smirked, frowning. "Don't you?"

She shook her head gently. "I can't think straight when you're in the room… Especially when your fingers are stroking the back of my neck," she said, moving her head with the shiver caused by his touch.

"Well, thinking is highly overrated," he grinned. "… So," he continued, changing the subject – sort of, " when Phoebus said that kiss was – "

"Yes she was telling the truth, John."

"Ah. Good," he said, then he placed his hands either side of her head – as Phoebus had done with Thalan – and brought his lips close to hers. "Would you like to kiss me instead of Thalan now?" he whispered.

Then his lips brushed lightly against hers, waiting for her to respond, which she did instantly, her reply of "I'd love to," being actioned rather than spoken.

THE END


End file.
